


Just Relax

by Graceful_Storyteller



Series: Blue-Eyed Boy [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mind Control, Tony is still Tony, and pushy as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 04:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graceful_Storyteller/pseuds/Graceful_Storyteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where the staff works. While Tony is mind controlled Loki is stressing about the invasion and Tony offers to give him a blowjob without being prompted. It'd never even occurred to Loki to use his minions for that kind of thing, and he's not sure he wants to, but even mind controlled, Tony Stark is pushy. Slightly awkward but still a sinister villain Loki being set upon by a mind controlled Tony Stark who was shown by the tesseract that he wants to suck dick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Relax

**Author's Note:**

> For prompt: 
> 
> AU where the staff works or Loki just moves it to touch skin. While Tony is mind controlled, Loki is stressing out over something and Tony offers to give him a blowjob without being prompted. It'd never even occurred to Loki to use his minions for that kind of thing, and he's not sure he wants to, but even mind controlled, Tony Stark is pushy.
> 
> Slightly awkward but still a sinister villain Loki being set upon by a mind controlled Tony Stark who was shown by the tesseract that he wants to suck dick. Basically Tony dub-conning himself and possibly Loki all at the same time, possibly leading to Loki enjoying it so much he decides to take it further with both Clint and Tony.

Loki stares out of the wall of windows at the unsuspecting city below. It will not be long now before the portal opens, before his army arrives. That is when the war will truly begin – his soldiers will rain Hel down upon the oblivious mortals and burn their precious city to the ground. He will crush any and all resistance like an ant beneath his boot; he will humble the mortals’ heroes, break their spirits, bring them to their knees, and offer up the Tesseract as thanks for his glorious victory.

 

A sudden pressure behind his eyes causes Loki to bring his hand to his temples. He’s using too much of a power that is not his own. The staff in his hand glows a bright, haunting blue and Loki glowers down at the object. As much as he appreciates the focus to amplify his powers, he can’t help suspect that it is more than it appears. He does not trust The Other, and he is quite sure that the feeling is mutual. It would not surprise him if his allies intend to use the staff to control him in the same way that he has used it to control the humans he has encountered during his campaign. He wishes them luck – he is not some weak-minded sap whose strings are easily pulled. He is Loki of Asgard; he is a god and a mage of the highest calibre. He has perfected his mental defences and would know if his mind came under attack. At least, he thinks he would. Thanos is old and powerful and a mystery to Loki. Could his psychic abilities be so strong that he is able to influence even a god without their knowledge?

 

Loki is jerked out of his musings by the sound of Tony Stark’s careless drawl. “You alright there Rock of Ages?”

 

The god slowly turns to face the mortal. The man is reclining upon one of his sofas and nursing a glass of some foreign alcohol. His eyes are a bright intelligent blue that study Loki with an interest that the god finds surprisingly enjoyable. Loki smiles easily and replies, “I am fine; my thoughts merely drifted to far away matters.”

 

Stark hums in a way that suggests he often suffers such moments of separation from reality. “Running through the game plan? Double checking you’ve picked the right moment to bring out your unknown star runner so that the other team won’t know what hit them when they’re suddenly three touchdowns down with only ten seconds left on the clock?” 

 

Loki frowns, not understanding any of what Stark has just said.

 

“It’s a sports reference,” Stark explains, gesturing along with his words. “Basically what I was asking was: are you having second thoughts about how you want to play this? You still want to wait awhile before sending me in for a sneak attack?”

 

“Yes,” Loki answers. “I want you to wait until they are engaged in combat, or they call for you. Then you will kill the soldier and bring me his shield as a trophy.”

 

“Roger that.” Stark raises his glass in a salute before draining the contents. He licks his lips with a sound that emphasizes his satisfaction and deposits the glass by his feet. He then sits back and carefully measures Loki with his gaze. “You look tense.”

 

“I am merely preparing myself for battle.”

 

The look Stark gives him indicates that he does not believe him. “You need to relax. From what I’ve heard getting yourself worked up before a big fight is never a good idea.”

 

“Your concern is appreciated but unnecessary. This is not the first conflict I have participated in; I know what I am doing.”

 

Stark smirks. “I think this is a little different from anything you’ve done before. I doubt you’ve led an army – I bet you’ve never even led a small group. My guess is Mr God of Thunder liked to throw his weight around and you followed him about like the dutiful younger brother. This is your first time playing leader and, like I said earlier, that means that everything is on you. You fuck up then your grand campaign fails and you end up dead or in a deep dark cell somewhere. This is the big leagues, kiddo, where it doesn’t matter if you tried your hardest – everything is about the win. Failure is not an option; you’re all in and the smallest mistake is unacceptable. You got to be resolute, unflinching, and ready to do what you got to do. _Carpe diem_ and all the jazz.”

 

Loki glowers at Stark. For the most part he finds the man’s ramblings amusing, enjoys the verbal sparring that he so rarely engaged in on Asgard. However, he does not appreciate the mortal bringing up Thor, or in any way doubting that he will be victorious. It does nothing for his nerves – as much as he denies it to everyone (including himself) he can’t stop thinking how high the stakes are and worrying that he will fall short of what is needed to achieve all he has set out to do.

 

Instead of quailing under Loki’s glare like any sane mortal would, Stark continues to grin as he holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, I’m not trying to undermine you here – just pointing out that this is kind of a big deal and that it’s only natural you’d be tense. Being tense is a bad idea though – and I should know seeing as I’m the king of bad ideas. You need to calm down until all the players have arrived and we get to the exciting part of this tale.” Stark drops his hands and continues in a new, serious tone of voice, “The waiting is the worst bit, and people tend to doubt themselves while they wait and that leads to mistakes; which is why you need to take a deep breath and relax.”

 

“How?” Loki sneers. “If this is truly the ‘big deal’ you claim it to be then how do you propose that I relax?”

 

Stark tilts his head as if considering the question. Then, for just a moment, his eyes glow an even more startling blue. A leer slowly crosses the mad mortal’s lips as his gaze drifts over Loki. Slowly, he rises to his feet and stalks forward to stand before the god. Loki quirks a curious eyebrow as he stares down at the man, genuinely intrigued by what he is about to suggest. Stark continues to grin as he asks without any preamble, “How long has it been since you had another man suck your dick?”

 

For a moment Loki is left speechless. He is well aware that the Tesseract is a conscious (if not living) thing. Its power seeps into the minds of those it touches and steals their loyalty. It does not alter their personality; it simply switches their allegiance so that they will eagerly use their skills to execute the plan. For Selvig it had granted him the gift of knowledge (of truth) so that he might build the machine to open the portal, and for Barton it had set him missions in the way he was use to – it had given him targets to take out and materials that needed to be retrieved for the greater good. Apparently Stark has been tasked by the Tesseract with keeping Loki calm and focused until he is needed for battle; and instead of being told to use his words to do so he has been instructed to use his mouth for a much more demeaning chore.

 

Impossibly, Stark’s grin widens as he continues, “My guess is it’s been a long time. How long have you been MIA for? A year? Did you manage to get any in that time? Or have you had to make do with your hand and the image of a billion humans worshiping the ground you walk on? Well, you don’t have to make do with fantasy anymore! You’ve got your very own human here who’s ready and willing to blow you until you’re a puddle of satisfied god-goo.”

 

Loki is uncertain if he is entirely comfortable with this sudden turn of events. It is not that he is repulsed by this manipulation of Stark (he is human and was born to serve), nor is it because he finds the man unattractive. It is simply that...this is not the time for such things. Midgard’s heroes will arrive soon and Loki would prefer that they not catch him in a compromising position. As much as it would delight him to watch horror and disgust spread across their faces at the sight of Stark humbled before him, it would ruin his plan to have the man pose as a friend and attack when their backs are turned. He does not want to indulge in carnal pleasures and risk making one of those grave mistakes Stark had spoken of earlier.  

 

Adopting an expression of boredom, Loki gently pushes against Stark’s chest until he takes a step backwards. “As tempting an offer as that is, I’m afraid I must decline.”

 

Stark blinks, his grin dimming somewhat. “If you’re worried about being disappointed you shouldn’t be; I’ve sucked plenty of dicks over the years. I have a thing for smart, powerful assholes – usually businessmen who like their privacy, which is why it’s only my heterosexual dirty laundry that gets aired in public. I get down on my knees and swallow whatever they give me, and in return I get to fuck them up the ass. It’s a pretty sweet deal that’s worked out well for me so far.”

 

Ah, that would explain why Stark had not rebelled against the order – it fell well within the parameters of his personality and skills.

 

Continuing to keep his expression neutral, Loki replies, “That is not the reason I am rejecting your proposition. I am doing so because my frustrations grant me fire in battle and to rid myself of them now would likely be detrimental to the end result of this conflict.”

 

Stark pouts. “I don’t believe that – I think you’re just saying that because you’re scared.”

 

“ _Scared_?” Loki parrots, incredulous.

 

“Yeah. I bet you’re terrified that your cock’s shrivelled up from lack of use and that I’ll laugh at you.”

 

“I...” Loki attempts to reply, but he is too mortified (and enraged) to form a properly coherent reply.

 

Stark’s leer returns as he continues to taunt the god. “Cat got your tongue? Is that because I hit the nail on the head? Have you got a history of performance issues after a year of celibacy? Has your cock given up all hope of getting any? Has-”

 

Loki grabs Stark by the throat and lifts him off the ground in order to silence him. “You are insufferable,” he hisses. “If I had not need of your skills I would murder you personally and cast your innards down upon all those who admire you.” He throws Stark to the floor, his hands still shaking with barely suppressed rage and humiliation.

 

Sitting up, Stark coughs and rubs gingerly at his throat. “I see I hit a nerve. Sorry about that; another one of my bad habits. Once I find something interesting I tend to poke at it until it bites off my finger. Let me make it up to you.”

 

Stark rolls onto his hands and knees and crawls over to Loki. He starts at Loki’s boots and kisses his way up the god’s leather-clad legs to his thigh. That is when Loki places his hand atop the man’s head to halt his progress. “What do you think you are doing Stark?” Loki asks icily.

 

“Apologising for being insensitive,” Stark replies with a too-innocent expression.

 

Against his better judgement an amused smile curls at the edge of Loki’s lips. The mortal is nothing if not persistent. “I thought I had already informed you that I have no need of those particular services.”

 

“I thought you might have changed your mind since then. I thought you might want to put this lowly mortal in his place so that he won’t ever disrespect you like that again.”

 

Loki hums thoughtfully. “I think you already know that your place is at my feet.” Before Stark can interrupt he continues, “I also think that you would not consider servicing me a punishment. You are far too eager for me to believe you anything more than a hungry whore.”

 

A new light appears in Stark’s eyes as he hurries to agree. “Yep, that’s me – I’m a filthy cock whore who wants nothing more than a face-full of your jizz. It’s a disgusting addiction, I know, but I just can’t help it! I bet your cock is big and thick and _majestic_. I bet I’d choke on it – I bet you’d have to pull out so I wouldn’t suffocate, but I’d still beg you to put it back in because I’m that much of a dirty pathetic slut. I just can’t get off if I’m not at the feet of an amazing, ruthless, big-cocked man who’s willing to tell me how much of a whore I am. I’m just pathetic aren’t I?”

 

Loki slowly clenches and unclenches the hand not resting on Stark’s head. He should not be aroused by this. He should be appalled that the man would be willing to demean himself this much. And yet the tightness in his crotch suggests that revulsion is truly the opposite of what the mortal’s words inspire in him.

 

_Damn him_.

 

“Stark,” Loki exhales wearily. “You are truly insufferable.”

 

Stark grins smugly. “I know. But since I’m going to get my way I really don’t care.”

 

“What makes you believe that?”

 

“Well for starters there’s the raging hard-on in your pants,” Stark says as he nods at the prominent bulge. “Then there’s the fact that I’m hitting all of your kinks: kneeling, grovelling, praising you, being adorably obnoxious...”    

 

“I do not believe that last one is one of my...kinks.”

 

“It will be when I’m through with you.”

 

Loki can’t help but chuckle at that. “I will admit that your persistence is amusing, even if it is unappreciated.”

 

“The only reason you’ve yet to appreciate my persistence is because you’re still hiding your dick from me,” Stark pouts.

 

Again Loki chuckles, and senses his resolve weakening. “You are not use to being denied something, are you Man of Iron?”

 

“That’s right,” Stark replies with a toothy grin.

 

Loki sighs, his hand absently carding through Stark’s hair as he reconsiders the situation. He still believes that engaging in sexual acts at this critical junction is unwise, yet he also now believes that Stark will not be dissuaded from this lascivious course of action. He will continue to torment Loki until he either surrenders to the man or the mortals arrive to do battle. Since Loki has no desire to begin this war with a stiff member it would perhaps be prudent to end this game and allow the human to complete the mission given to him by the Tesseract.

 

“Very well,” Loki relents with a sigh of defeat. “I will allow you to gorge yourself on my manhood.”

 

Stark’s eyes shine with delight at the news. “Thank you your majesty; I am greatly honoured by your most benevolent gift,” he intones with a bowed head and just enough sarcasm to be amusing rather than insulting.

 

“Do not make me regret my decision,” Loki warns as he pushes past the kneeling mortal and heads for the seat Stark had vacated earlier.

 

“I’ve not had an unsatisfied customer yet,” Stark replies, following Loki’s movements with his eyes.

 

“Trust me Stark – I am like no man you have ever serviced before,” Loki says as he settles into the cushions and spreads his legs in invitation.

 

“I can believe that,” the human mumbles as he makes a move to stand.

 

Loki shoots him a dark look and Stark stills. It takes the inventor mere seconds to realise what Loki has rebuffed him for, and the knowledge prompts him to chuckle. With a leer the man moves back onto his hands and knees and crawls across the short distance towards his god. When he arrives he again kisses his way up from Loki’s boots to the now straining leather encasing his crotch. Stark’s fingers caress the area, a thoughtful expression consuming his face that for a moment Loki does not understand. Then he remembers that mortal garments are far easier to remove than those of Asgard. The god takes hold of Stark’s fingers and moves them to the correct place. A look of understanding flashes across the human’s face and within seconds Loki’s erection is exposed. A warm feeling of pride blossoms in Loki’s chest at the appreciative hum Stark gives at the display. The warmth quickly spreads lower as the mortal again employs his fingers; mapping and testing and exposing as much of Loki as possible. Loki bites his tongue to hide how much he enjoys this simple exploration. Stark had been correct earlier when he’d said it had been a long time since Loki had indulged in these sorts of pleasures. He has been too preoccupied with other matters over this last year to properly attend to his primal needs, and now he is paying the price with his over-sensitivity.

 

The look in Stark’s eyes when their gazes connect tells Loki that the mortal is well-aware of what he is doing to the god. Thankfully, however, instead of passing comment he takes the head of Loki’s member into his mouth and applies gentle suction. The god closes his eyes and rests his head against the back of the sofa. He is glad that he will not be forced to defenestrate Stark – now that he is here with the man between his legs he cannot imagine why he was ever opposed to this.

 

In time Stark grows bored of slow licks and soft touches – he swallows Loki whole with a suddenness that causes the deity to call out in surprise. Stark pulls off him with a noise that is obscene and licks his lips in a way that is somehow even more so. He grins, shamelessly proud of what he has done, and says with blindingly fake innocence, “Yes?”

 

For a moment Loki is silent. Eventually, he decides that laughter is the appropriate response before forcing Stark’s head down so that his mouth can return to work. Stark does so with gusto; Loki groans as the mortal takes him to the hilt and holds the position until the contraction of his throat forces him to move. The man does not take as much after that – he bobs his head in a shallow but smooth motion that is somehow rapid but unhurried. His fingers squeeze the base of Loki’s cock in time with his ministrations whilst his free hand carelessly fondles Loki’s balls. Loki rewards the man by no longer repressing the sounds of his pleasure: he freely groans at a particularly skilled flick of the human’s tongue or nimble twitch of his fingers. His hand remains in the mortal’s hair, his grip firm without inflicting pain. He does not need pain to control Stark, not when the man is so clearly enjoying what he is doing. Loki can feel the grin against his flesh, can sense the mortal’s heightening arousal, can taste the excitement in the air. It is as Loki preached: humans were made to be ruled, to serve higher beings such as himself. If only Stark’s comrades could see how eager he is to submit, how much pleasure he gains from kneeling before Loki, they would understand just how pointless this fight is. In the end they will all gladly succumb to Loki and the kingdom he will establish on Midgard.

 

His lips twisted in a grin that is more vicious glee than anything else, Loki uses his grip on Stark’s hair to force the mortal to swallow more of him. Caught off-guard Stark chokes, but easily recovers and returns to his rhythm. However, he clearly senses Loki’s change in mood and moves his hands to grip the deity’s thighs. Loki’s grin widens and he violently thrusts his hips up in a rhythm of his own choosing. He fucks Stark’s mouth with unrelenting vigour and moans when the mortal does not attempt to stop him. No, instead of fighting him the man calmly meets his eyes and causes Loki to come undone more violently than he has in centuries.

 

Stark waits until he has sucked Loki dry before releasing his spent manhood. The human carelessly wipes away any stray drops of cum from his facial hair and removes the evidence with his tongue. Then Stark grins and Loki shudders – too sated to care about appearances.

 

“So,” the human says conversationally, “best blow job you’ve ever had?”

 

Loki carefully considers the question. “It was certainly within my top ten.”

 

“Only your top ten?” Stark says, disappointed. “I must be losing my touch.”

 

Loki chuckles. “You forget that I am a god; I have had centuries to roam the Nine Realms in search of the fairest maidens and bravest warriors willing to kneel before me as you have.”

 

“So what you’re saying is that I should take your comment as a compliment?” After a moment of consideration Stark’s grin returns with a vengeance. “Guess I can add that to my résumé then: able to perform oral sex to a divine standard.”

 

Laughing softly, Loki lovingly runs his fingers through Stark’s hair. The mortal sighs and leans into the touch. His smug grin falls into a contented smile that matches the pleased blue of his eyes. Loki guesses this is because the man has fulfilled his mission – all worries and concerns about the coming battle have fled Loki and left him feeling more at peace than he has in months. The god regrets that the feeling cannot last, that the war will commence momentarily and he will be forced to again adopt all the stresses and strains of a leader. Loki sighs wearily at the thought of it.

 

It is at that point that Loki notices what Stark’s hand is doing. Loki’s own hand stills and he sits up straighter to gain a better view of the man masturbating. Stark’s gaze meets his and he raises an eyebrow expectantly. “What? You think you’re the only one who doesn’t find the thought of fighting with a raging hard-on all that appealing?”

 

“It is not that,” Loki replies, biting back a laugh.

 

Stark leers as he continues to caress himself under the curious god’s gaze. “You thinking about round two already Darling? Sure that’s wise when Selvig seems to have finally gotten the portal working?”

 

Surprised, Loki’s head jerks towards the windows. He sees the first wave of his army drop towards the ground and the unsuspecting citizens below. A wicked smile consumes Loki’s face as the power of the Tesseract courses through him. For a second it is bliss; then the pressure returns in his temples and he forces down the foreign magic lest it overwhelm and consume him.

 

Loki shakes his head to return to the present. He focuses on Stark and (still smiling sinfully) orders, “Finish and retrieve your armour with haste. We have a war to win.”

 

“With pleasure Your Highness,” Stark replies with a jaunty salute.

 

The mortal moves aside so that Loki can rise. The deity does so with smooth fluidity and strides towards the balcony. A golden glow surrounds him as he summons his armour and composure. Loki steps out into the gloriously warm afternoon sun and stares up at the gaping mouth of the portal. His army is here, his victory is so close that he can taste it...

 

Loki closes his eyes and embraces the anticipation. When he again opens them Stark stands behind him in a new suit of armour. Loki’s eyes travel over the expanse of gold and red metal and he remembers Stark’s earlier comment. Is he ready for round two? Not yet, not when his blood and bones and sinew are singing with the desire for destruction and chaos. But when the war is over? When the human spirit is broken and the mortals have made him king? Then he will be ready, then he will be more than ready to indulge in the carnal pleasure Stark will undoubtedly offer him as reward for his victory. Loki grins at the thought of such gratification and turns fervent eyes on New York City – the first city of many that will fall before Loki – and whispers, “Let the battle begin.”


End file.
